


...but if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right

by demi_god



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Anxiety, Bad Decisions, Cheating, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god/pseuds/demi_god
Summary: Should she just let him go, then?Again?Let him walk away from her as she watches his hunched back retreating in defeat while she masks her guilt with forced nonchalance. Then, listens to the door quietly closing behind him as he gives her up?Except this isn't six years ago. Annabeth is anything but indifferent, and the door is not closed forever.•[reposting]
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've written this way back April of 2018, went to hiatus, and picked it up again April of 2019. I last updated this December of 2019 and decided to pick it up again almost a year later. I previously posted this one here, but I deleted it when I thought I won't be finishing it. I realized, though, I'm close to the end. There are 13 chapters written for this fic now, that I'm slowly editing and revising, on top of other fics I'm working on for my current fandom. I just really want to finish this, though, so I'm putting it here again.
> 
> With that said, if you've read this before, I apologize and you can turn back ☺️ For new readers, hey!

I.

_ I'm so glad you made time to see me. _

_ How's life? _

_ Tell me, how's your family? _

_ I haven't seen them in a while. _

~.~

"— _ have to get out sometimes, you know," _ Piper says through the phone. Annabeth can hear the whirring of her blender in the background. She hasn't had her morning vegetarian smoothie yet, but she is already hovering over Annabeth like a mother hen.

"I  _ am _ out," Annabeth re-adjusts her scarf with one hand as she struggles to hold her phone within her shoulder and chin while simultaneously trying to keep her bag from falling off her other shoulder. She needs to have her coffee  _ so bad _ .

" _ Walking the short distance to work doesn't count as being out, Annabeth."  _ Piper turns her blender off so Annabeth can hear her early morning jazz music playing this time.

She sighs. Taking her phone in her hand, she opens her mouth to beg her to  _ please _ let her have her coffee first before she nags her ear out. "Piper—" she starts but is immediately interrupted.

" _ Okay, okay, I'll get off your hair -for now. I know you haven't had your fill yet, so I'll drop it."  _ She concedes. Annabeth breathes in relief.  _ "Anyway, the real reason I called-" _

"Oh, so pestering me wasn't  _ the _ ulterior motive, yet?"

Piper ignores the comment. "- _ is to inform you about Friday night." _

"What's on Friday night?"

" _ Grover and Juniper are inviting us to a get-together in this new bar a couple of blocks from their apartment _ ." She explains. Annabeth's brow arches for a second because Grover and Juniper don't do bars, as far as she remembers. Is she  _ that _ outdated on her friends?

" _ Grover and the owner go way back, and after hearing about his upcoming wedding, he guarantees free entrance and drinks to his and Juniper's friends. Grover didn't decline; thinks it's a great way to catch up again." _

"Oh," Annabeth bites her lip in delay.

" _ You're not allowed to say no to this one, Annabeth. _ " Piper quickly adds as if hearing her thoughts. " _ We're going to be reviewing stuff for the wedding, too." _

She pictures the mountain of paperwork piling up in her table that requires her undivided attention this Friday night (and  _ all other _ Friday nights before that and maybe the next Friday nights after, too). But she also thinks of her friends. She hasn't seen them in a while. She has already turned down a few other invitations for her work.

Then again, she can't put aside her friends this time, especially that Grover and Juniper are getting married the next weekend. Probably, her mind whispers, it is nigh time she gets her Friday nights back.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

There's a heartbeat of silence that follows Annabeth's statement. She imagines her friend's mouth to be gaping in surprise. Piper might be expecting a little argument before getting Annabeth to agree to go like the  _ typical _ scenario.

" _Umm_ , _okay,"_ Piper pauses, still taken aback. " _But_ _be sure to come_." She warns pointedly.

Annabeth chuckles at that. At the back of her mind, she thinks she should be a little offended at the distrust, but she plays it off coolly. It's her fault Piper is wary of her just agreeing with no fight, anyway. She rarely agrees without fighting. Well, she rarely  _ agrees _ at all. But she does fight very often.

"Yeah, I'll be there. I promise Pipes," She finds herself sincere about going, and maybe even a little excited to see her friends again. Annabeth hopes she didn't miss too much in their lives. She hopes that nobody is getting married among her friends again without knowing they were  _ dating _ in the first place. Well, she did think Grover and Juniper would end up together eventually. They are just perfect for each other. She was just a little  _ floored _ to receive the wedding invitation without any warning, is all. "I do want to see you all again, you know. It would be a pleasant change of scenery. I feel like a thousand different building patterns are tattooed at the back of my eyelids already, and they're giving me a headache."

" _ One look at a blueprint and you're high as a kite, Annie. It doesn't give you a headache; it gives you an orgasm _ ." Annabeth flushes but doesn't defend herself. " _ But A for effort. You miss us, and you're guilty of rejecting our previous invitations. Get it." _

Annabeth laughs. She can depend on Piper to brighten up her day -well, when she isn't busy pestering her on stuff Annabeth has no business with, like  _ dating _ , that is. She's a breath of fresh air.

"I can already see me having fun this Friday," Annabeth says.

Piper's breath hitches, barely recognizable over the phone, but Annabeth doesn't miss it. Piper stays silent for a while as if recollecting something that she has yet to tell Annabeth. She rounds the corner to Starbucks and pauses in her tracks, waiting for Piper to speak again.

"Piper?"

Piper exhales on the other end, and from all the years Annabeth has known her friend, she knows that that sigh means that she is holding back something from her.

" _ Just…be there, okay _ ?" She sounds reluctant but firm and final on her request. Annabeth chooses not to bother her with it. For today, at least.

"Okay."

~.~

Annabeth pushes the door open to Starbucks. The smell of freshly brewed coffee immediately carries into her nostrils as a welcome intrusion. She instantly feels calm. She can take on a hundred blueprints at the level of energy surging in her veins. And that's only from the smell of it, mind. 

Annabeth's exaggerating, of course. She had slept late the previous evening and woken up with the blinds she forgot to close before sleeping because she just wanted to doze off so bad after almost 12 hours bent on her work. Last night wasn't the first time she went home exhausted after a long day from work. But it was, in all her life, the first time she missed closing off the damn curtains. So, yeah, it is a bad start to the day for her. And she needs positivity, like 5 cups of it and tons of whipped cream on top of each.

She walks to the small queue of people lining up to order after a glance at her wristwatch. She still has plenty of time. She thinks about sending Piper a message after her somewhat cryptic behavior over the phone, so she digs her bag for her mobile phone again. She holds up her mobile, and the picture of her and Piper greets her as soon as she clicks it to life. 

She smiles. It's a picture of them attending a silly Coachella themed party almost three years ago. Piper had dragged her along ranting about (A.)  _ stop being a cave-person _ and (B.)  _ your company's not going to sue you for actually living life!, _ and (C.)  _ stop moping and fucking get laid, Annabeth _ . Well, A and B went off the list that night, and she did enjoy the party. It was after that night that Piper began bugging her about letter C  _ non-stop _ and pushed her to countless blind dates, speed dates, and even to online dating sites.

Frankly, Annabeth can live to her old age celibate. She's had enough with getting laid and then breaking her heart in the process. And then, tearing someone else's heart while she's on it. Nope. She's had enough regrets to last her a lifetime. And maybe  _ another _ lifetime, too. Yup, she could probably reincarnate into a spider after she dies and still carries the same old wounds.

"Iced Latte Macchiato and a Blonde Caffe Latte, please?"

Annabeth almost drops her phone.

"Sizes, sir?"

"Grande."

She whips her head up so fast there is a slight stinging in her neck from the sudden exertion. She hardly notices it, as the sound of her beating heart drowns out everything else in the room. A plane could have crashed down to the city behind her, and she wouldn't have any idea at all. No, her world narrows to one point at the front of the line. She recognizes that voice. 

Annabeth hasn't heard it in a long time -in 6 years, to be exact- but she won't mistake that voice. Not even if ten thousand people order the same coffee in the same shop at the same moment, she will still be able to pick out that voice from any crowd. Heck, she'll probably only hear  _ his _ voice among others.

To be fair, how can she not focus on him when her heart is hardwired to pound like a madman at the slightest indication of his voice? It's a battle that's won long ago. And certainly not by Annabeth.

She cranes her neck and follows the source of the deep, husky, and sweet voice.

And there he is.

Annabeth is done for, a _ gain _ .

He's standing at the side of the counter, waiting for his order to be served. His fingers are drumming on the countertop. His other hand is inside one of the pockets of his khaki pants. He's gnawing his lower lip, and Annabeth would bet that he doesn't know he's doing that because Percy  _ never _ knows he's doing it ever. And she just can't look away from the painful familiarity of it.

She drinks in everything that is him. From the plain, dark blue, button-up shirt he's wearing, the dark blue sneakers (he always loved blue and all shades of it), his silvery Rolex watch sitting cozily on his wrist. His windswept hair that always gives off this troublemaker aura is still the same jet black color, grown to fall over his eyes -his eyes. Don't even let Annabeth get started with his eyes. 

They're not visible in her direction, but she knows that they are still the same vibrant, sea-green color that shames all other. And from all her exaggerations that day, it's  _ that _ one thing she will and cannot exaggerate. His eyes are the most breath-taking among the billion other pairs in the world.

God, he looks gorgeous. Even more than six years ago.

How can she have gone on with life after losing him all those years back?

Oh,  _ right _ . Annabeth hasn't gone on at all.

Her life has become uneventful. Annabeth only has Piper to drag her to parties and set her up with random guys in frail hopes of fixing her. There's also her boss that dumps all the worksheets to her table because everyone else has life. Even the coffee shop baristas mistakenly write Annabelle on her cup like her name is easy to forget. She's turned into a tedious old-maid at age 25 when she was out living it to the fullest (albeit negligently) just years ago. 

The grandma living across her apartment has a more social life and a more exciting love life than Annabeth. If the parties she hosts once a month for her high school friends batch 1968 and the grandpa that always stays behind to ' _ help clean up _ ' are any indications at all.

Maybe it's really how the aftermath of a broken heart looks. Probably the consequence of pride is Annabeth's life at 25.

The barista finally hands Percy his bag with a coy smile. "Here you go,  _ Peter _ ." Annabeth doesn't miss the paper that she slips inside the bag, which she can only guess is her mobile number. He gets that a lot, Annabeth remembers. 

He politely returns the smile and takes his bag, allowing the paper to linger inside, but Annabeth knows once he's out the door, he'll fish it out and throw it in the trash bin. He's always been big on chivalry to decline a girl on her face.

He turns from the counter, and Annabeth panics. She hastily bows her head and pretends to be busy with her phone. She freezes in her spot, and her mind blanks and swarms with thoughts all at once. She's uncertain of what to do. Should she say 'hi'? Talk to him? She can't even lift her head anymore.

He walks past her, and she catches a whiff of his scent that awakens something inside her that even coffee can never do, and goes straight for the door. Annabeth wonders if he can hear the drumming of her heart calling out to him - to listen to her, to notice her, to  _ glance _ her way.

Guess not because the smell is suddenly gone, and the door chimes at his exit.

Should she just let him go, then?

Again?

Let him walk away from her as she watches his hunched back retreating in defeat while she masks her guilt with forced nonchalance. Then, listens to the door quietly closing behind him as he gives her up?

Except this isn't six years ago. Annabeth is anything but indifferent, and the door is not closed forever.

She leaves her place in the line -coffee be damned- because she can survive one day without it, but not another without him. Not when she's finally strong enough to yank open the door he closed and follow him out like she should have done back then.

The door chimes again as she hurries out of the establishment, eyes sweeping everywhere in search of him. Then, her line of vision zeroes in on him as he opens the door to a blue Mercedes-Benz.

"Percy!"

He doesn't hear the call and proceeds to bend into his car. She sprints towards his direction, heels  _ click-click-clicking _ on the pavement. The pair walking in the opposite direction moves to the side to avoid crashing with her, noting her rush.

" _ Percy _ !" she calls to him again, louder and more desperate.

The hoarse itch in her throat proves to be worth it because this time, he looks up.

It is evident the moment he spots the source of the call because his eyes widen and his jaw hardens just a little. For a split moment, he looks like he is going to ignore Annabeth and drive away. But his expression relaxes eventually, settling on genuine surprise and a tentative smile.

"Annabeth,"

He breathes out her name in wonder, and Annabeth marvels at the realization that her name has not sounded that beautiful in a long time. After all, only this man can make everything about her, everything she says and does, beautiful.

She stands, a little out of breath from her Olympic-winning dash, in front of his car. She smiles in awe because what else can she do when she's finally looking at her favorite shade of green, bringing to her the serenity of the sea in the middle of a busy, almost chaotic, New York street? She realizes she hasn't seen the ocean in quite a while now. Literally and metaphorically true.

"Your eyes are still so green," Annabeth tells him through an exhale. She inwardly cringes and mentally slaps herself. Of all the things she could have said as greetings, she says that _? _ Of course, they'd be green. She's as lame as the mashed potatoes she flipped down on the sink that morning.

If he's taken aback at her statement, he hides it well. "Yeah, I tried it blue, but it's just not the same." He shuts the door of his car and places his coffee atop it. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I can say the same thing," Annabeth says.

He rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah,"

Annabeth briefly catches sight of a small, three-letter tattoo at the back of his wrist before his hand falls to his side again. She wishes she's only mildly interested. Percy isn't into tattoos, and if he gets one, it's a big decision. 

"So, um, what are you doing here?" She's fiddling with the sling of her bag, trying for a casual conversation.

"Oh, I just stopped by to get some coffee," he gestures at the bag sitting quietly on the roof of his car.

"No, I mean  _ here _ ," Annabeth emphasizes. "In New York."

"Oh, um, actually, I moved back here a couple of days ago,"

Annabeth thinks she heard him say something about being assigned to the city for work, and she wants to listen. But Annabeth's mind keeps backtracking to  _ moved back here, _ and she hopes it's not  _ that visible _ in the way her eyes shine and smile widens that her heart is doing a silly happy dance inside her chest.

"Is that so? Great!" She tries to sound cool, but it came out as high-pitched. She clears her throat. "I mean - _ good _ . Good for you."

He nods. "I guess. I missed home."

She almost asks, ' _ did you miss me, by any chance _ ?' but luckily stops herself. Instead, she asks, "Do you know about Grover's wedding?"

His eyes light up at the mention of Grover, and his face breaks into a big grin, "Oh yeah. I'm his best man."

He sounds so excited for his best friend. It only makes sense, though, that he'd be Grover's best man. The two of them are as thick as thieves since middle school -practically inseparable. Not as attached to the hips as he and she were, but to be fair, they'd known each other since kindergarten, so she'll cut Grover some slack. And after what happened to them, Grover may as well be the  _ only _ best friend Percy considers now. 

Annabeth always wanted to ask Grover about it; she just never came around to it. She isn't sure how they would react if she mentions his name, so she never does. Ever since he left, their mutual friends had a silent agreement among themselves, too, not to say his name whenever she's around. She's not sure if it's for her benefit or theirs.

"That's wonderful," Annabeth says sincerely. "Marrying the love of his life and having his best friend as his best man."

Suddenly a notification tune played from Percy's phone. He digs his phone from his pocket and reads the message. He rears his head, "It's mom." He says. "We've made arrangements today. I'm heading to their apartment before we," He gestures at the space between them.

Annabeth warms up at the mention of Percy's mother. Sally Jackson is an amazing woman. She loves Percy so much, and she used to make blue pancakes (Percy's absolute favorite) whenever Annabeth came over to visit. It's been years since the last time she'd seen Sally.

She stopped going over to visit since Percy left. She couldn't find the courage to face Sally after what happened between her and Percy. Sally tried to reach out to Annabeth many times, but she was eaten away by guilt to return her calls. Nevertheless, she misses Sally because she had been like a mother to her, too.

She smiles, trying hard not to sound disappointed. "Yeah, it was -it was nice meeting you again."

"You too," he offers a kind smile, then opens his car one more time.

She bites her lips so hard. "Percy?" Annabeth blurts before she can stop herself. All she knows is that she can't just  _ let _ him drive away.

He pauses and looks at her expectantly.

"Can we talk sometime?" A giant stone is lodging in her stomach. "I mean, if you have any free time and if it's okay with you."

He visibly hesitates for a bit, and Annabeth understands why. She's the one who put the wall between them in the first place. At last, he searches through his bag of coffee and pulls out a scrap paper -the one where the barista has written her number from earlier.

Percy's head vanishes inside his car and shortly resurfaces with a pen in his hand. He appears to be scratching out and scribbling on the paper.

"This is my mobile number. Just ring me up."

Annabeth accepts the paper and holds on to it tightly. "Yeah, I'll sure do."

"See you around,"

He gets in the car, and Annabeth wants to stop him, to apologize, to beg, and to explain. But she understands it is a discussion for some other time. Because he's giving her time to look forward to, and that's more than what she knows she deserves.

Annabeth's gaze follows the blue car as it speeds away from her. The paper with his mobile number is burning hot in her palms. For the first time in a long while, Annabeth finds hope like a long-lost old friend.

The hope that she can still say everything that needs to be said. The hope that she can correct her mistakes. The hope that even though Annabeth can't undo what she did and unsay what she said, they can probably start all over again, and she can make it right this time.

The hope that even if she  _ does _ reincarnate into a spider after she dies, she's going to live a happy, webby, eight-legged life anyway.

/./ curt /./


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wishes she can feel that kind of happiness again. That selfless kind that when you see someone important to you happy, it's all the fuel you need to be, too. It's an instantaneous kind of happiness. To her, that is Percy.
> 
> It has always been Percy.

II.

_ (In the middle of the night, _

_ when I'm in this dream, _

_ It's like a million little stars _

_ spelling out your name…") _

~.~

_ Annabeth clutched her pink plastic briefcase, hugging it close to her chest, as her father held one of her hands, walking them to her kindergarten school. Her pigtails swung with each step she took, and she honestly would much rather have pulled her blonde hair into a bun, like her mother's, but her father had a different idea. Her parents had argued about it over breakfast. _

" _ She's a child, Athena." Her father reasoned, voice taut. "Let her  _ look _ like it." _

_ Her mother looked exasperated. "I'm just saying, keeping all her hair into a bun can help muster more confidence. It makes her look smart and respectable." _

" _ She's attending a class for  _ six-year-olds _ ," Her father looked like he wanted to throw his plate on the floor. If Annabeth weren't busy chewing her bacon, she'd have tutted at her father for having an adult tantrum. _

_ In the end, her father won. Now, Annabeth was walking towards her classroom with annoying pigtails that made her look like an utter moron. But she loved her father and made wise not to say it aloud. So, instead, she focused on more important things like her class presentation for that day. _

_ Their kindergarten teacher, Miss Flynn, assigned them homework they would have to show that day. They had to draw in a bond paper a representation of what they wanted to be when they grow up. Meticulously, and without any supervision, she completed the assignment with a drawing of the closest impression of a skyscraper she can get, and she colored it in for extra points and more stars to show off to her mother later. She wanted to be an architect. She wanted to build something as impenetrable and indestructible as her mother's resolve. Her mother had been her hero as a child. Always prim and proper, and everything in her life was a beautiful laid-out plan. Annabeth wanted to be that so everyone would look up to her when she was older and successful. _

_ Before she entered class, her father had knelt, so they were eye level with each other and said: _

" _ I just want you to know that you don't have to look perfect all the time, Annie. You don't have to  _ be _ perfect all the time. Having plans and being organized are undeniably admirable characters, but you're allowed to sway off the path once in a while. There can be a more priceless treasure left unmarked on the map. Just glance sideways sometimes because happiness is not always going straight. It can be found in curves and edges and broken lines, too." _

_ Annabeth, even at six years old, knew how deep those words flow, even if his 'wisdom' was the result of a silly row he had with her mother about pigtails and buns. _

_ Maybe she'd show dad the stars on her arms first before mom. _

***

Annabeth finds herself spacing out for the fourth time that day. Yes, she counted. She snaps out of her trance when one of her workmates drops her glass of water from her worktable. The sound of it breaking on the marble floor of the office reverberates in the relatively quiet space. Her workmate apologizes profusely to no one in particular and proceeds to look for a mop to dry the floor and a trash bin to dispose of the shards.

Everybody quickly gets over the little commotion and faces back to their  _ real _ business -all except Annabeth. She finds it very difficult to focus on the plan she was outlining. She strives to snap back to order but fails rather quickly.

She surrenders and puts down her drafting pencil, sighing to her table. Focus is Annabeth's middle name, but it seems to be betraying her today. 

She reaches for the bottom drawer of her work table and slides it open. It's full of papers and drafting materials and a few different rulers and lettering guides. It's a typical Architect drawer at first glance, except this bottom drawer is Annabeth's  _ memory _ drawer. She keeps pictures of her friends and some other objects that have no business with architecture. It's a personal safe disguised as a ruler box. Not Annabeth's most ingenious idea, but her personal life is not something she wants to just put in a frame and broadcast to the entire workforce. Her workmates are already nosy as it is; she doesn't want to give them more to prod on.

She lifts a ream of paper and reaches underneath to pull out a photograph. Instantly, her heart drums faster, and a stone finds its way into her stomach again.

A younger version of herself smiling widely with an arm around a younger version of Percy, who grins happily at the camera while raising a trophy with one hand, and a gold medal on the other, stares back at her.

It was a picture during their junior year when Percy won first place in their High School swim meet. He had been so happy, and Annabeth had nowhere to put all her happiness for her best friend. The exhilaration of the photograph stares back at her. The joy she finds there haunts her.

Because it, for lack of a much less despairing word, is gone.

She wishes she can feel that kind of happiness again. That selfless kind that when you see someone important to you happy, it's all the fuel you need to be, too. It's an instantaneous kind of happiness. To her, that is Percy.

It has always been Percy.

***

_ Miss Flynn called out names to present their homework at the front of the class. Unfortunately, she started calling names in reverse alphabetical order (Annabeth had known her alphabet since she was four, so even though her other classmates thought she chose randomly, Annabeth knew otherwise). Her last name starts with the letter C, so her name was now at the bottom, and Annabeth would present last instead of first. She huffed in private. She wanted to go first. _

_ Well, looking at the bright side, she had heard people say  _ saving best for last _ , so she mentally patted herself because Miss Flynn regarded her as the best, unintentionally or not. _

_ She clapped along half-heartedly with the whole class after one of her classmate's presentations. She thought that dreaming to be a professional babysitter was absurd. And the drawing of what her classmate (she forgot her name, or was it  _ his _? She couldn't be sure with that awful haircut)  _ assumed _ a baby looked terrible. Annabeth felt nauseous just looking at it. She mentally thought to herself that she should go to them after classes to advise them to let their parents handle their homework next time. _

" _ Next is," Miss Flynn looked down at her clipboard. "…Perseus Jackson." _

_ Annabeth followed Miss Flynn's gaze to the back of the classroom (Annabeth sat in the front row). A timid boy slowly raised himself from his seat, bringing a beaten up paper (well, a  _ bit _ crumpled but same difference; Annabeth was not the least bit impressed) and walked to the front. He was looking down the whole way front as if somebody was going to reprimand him for being there. Annabeth  _ might _ call him out for having an ugly paper that, upon closer inspection, had a little tear at the bottom right corner. She decided she'd approach him too after class was over to give him a whole pack of clean, flawless bond paper. Maybe he ran out of clean ones at home.  _

_ Miss Flynn smiled brightly and encouragingly at the boy despite noticing the crumpled paper he was holding. Annabeth figured she wouldn't be a good teacher because she didn't have the same patience as Miss Flynn. "Show us your drawing, Perseus, and tell us about it." _

" _ Percy," _

" _ Hm?" The boy's voice was so soft Miss Flynn had to step nearer to hear what he said. _

" _ I-I go by Percy," he murmured a little louder this time. _

" _ Oh, okay then, Percy, show us your drawing." _

_ He shyly raised his paper to show the class, but his head was down. The drawing was dull, to say the least; he forgot to color it in, but he used crayons to draw outlines, so Annabeth was just a  _ little _ appeased. _

_ A chubby idiot who hadn't grown out of his baby fats, and probably wouldn't for a long time, snickered and pointed at Percy's drawing. "He wants to be a  _ fish _ ," _

_ Another five or so students laughed along, apparently sharing the same opinion that wanting to be a fish was a bad thing. Annabeth, in an unbiased way, thought that dreaming to transform into an animal was brilliant. Unrealistic but brilliant. She'd prefer to be an owl though not a fish, but hey, everybody has different spirit animals. Who was to judge? _

_ She glared at her classmates, who were just  _ too _ childish even for six-year-old standards. _

_ Miss Flynn shushed them, too, so they begrudgingly stopped making fun and settled on closing their mouths in silent chortling. Annabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head.  _ Kids _ , she thought. _

" _ Go on, Percy." Miss Flynn kindly smiled at Percy, who looked like the ripest tomato Annabeth had ever seen. _

_ He hesitantly gnawed his lower lip, and Annabeth would later deny that she thought it was cute. Or that  _ he _ was cute. _

" _ Um," _

_ She stared patiently, waiting for him to compose himself. Unexplainably, she found him intriguing. Maybe because he wanted to be a fish and not a stupid babysitter or a mini-bumblebee? _

_ He finally looked up, looking anxious that he could bolt out the room any minute. Then his eyes briefly landed on Annabeth, and she swore her breath stopped for a millisecond. _

_ His eyes were green. _

_ Like, the most stunning shade of green she'd ever seen. She hadn't seen that much (she was only six), but still. She was confident there was nobody to compare it with even when she had grown up and had seen considerably more people. _

_ Many years later, she'd turn out to be correct. _

***

For the fifth time that day, Annabeth spaces out and doesn't snap back until she realizes the cup of coffee she's nursing has long been empty. She grimaces. The coffee in her workplace is not Annabeth's favorite thing. It's always gone, and not even brewed. If anything, it's a feeble attempt at being a coffee. But work is work, and coffee is coffee as long as it keeps you awake throughout a whole day of designing, re-designing, and re-re-designing building plans.

The picture she has stared at for a good hour before slipping into her daydream world is lying quietly on her table. She looks at it one more time.

It isn't too late to have this again, right?

She's asked herself the same question for all the years that her best friend is gone. And the answer has always been his piercing, deafening absence.

But he's not far away any longer. He's back in New York, and he's given Annabeth a ticket back to his life when he handed her that scrap paper with his mobile number.

His mobile number.

Annabeth scrambles to search her pocket for the paper. She didn't take a risk and put it inside her bag in case it might fall off when she pulls something out. When her hand makes contact with it, she brings it to her face to make sure the numbers he's written are still on it. And they still are.

She takes her phone and carefully presses each key. She dials before she can stop herself, and not long after, she can hear the ringing. It's a wonder that Annabeth can still catch the ringing despite the powerful beating of her heart. She glances around discreetly, making sure nobody else can hear her heart because it's turbulent from her vantage point that she thinks the people from the building across them hears it, too.

So far, everyone is still bent on their table, not minding the world outside their computer screens and drafting table.

Then she suddenly feels suffocated, and she figures there might be a ventilation malfunction in their office, but when she glances around once more, the others look normal -breathing normally. Like their throats aren't constricting from lack of air. Like-

"Hello?"

A rush of air swoops into her system, and she can breathe again. She's pathetic; even she admits that. She inhales again, and when she's done marveling at the fact that there's oxygen in the room, she realizes she hasn't spoken yet. Absently, she takes note of a Barbie official soundtrack playing in the background.

"Hello?" Percy's deep, curious voice repeats, probably wondering why the person on the other side keeps on inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. Great, now Percy will think she's nuts who has an imaginary asthma attack.

Annabeth finally finds her voice, small and nervous. "Hey, it's me."

Three beats pass, and then, "…Annabeth?"

She swallows, "Yes, it's me." She hopes she sounds as calm and composed as she pretends to be. Maybe the loud and cheerful Barbie song playing behind him drowns the hitch in her voice. "Is now a bad time?"

"No, it's -wait." Annabeth listens to the shuffling on the other end, and the Barbie song becomes fainter and fainter by the second. There's a scratch of a metal chair on the tiled floor and then the sound of Percy sitting down. "Sorry. Paula is watching  _ The Diamond Castle _ for the millionth time." He explains and feigns exasperation, but Annabeth knows better. The little girl has her big brother wrapped around her finger, no matter how much he denies it.

Paula was four years old the last time she'd seen her. Like Sally, she could not bear to be around her after being the reason that her brother decided to drive away and live in a different country. Annabeth knows how much Paula adores her brother. She always asked for Percy ever since she learned how to say his name. She must have been devastated when he left, and Annabeth couldn't have taken it if she saw the look on her face. Paula is the little sister Annabeth never had.

"Well, she won't be getting over it for another year or so."

Paula  _ loves _ Barbie. Probably Barbie comes in second to Percy in Paula's list of favorites. Annabeth had been around when Paula underwent the phase of obsessing on the  _ Twelve Dancing Princesses _ when she was two. She was still pretty much infatuated with Genevieve by the time of the falling out when she was four.

"Oh no," Percy grumbles. "That's another gazillion replay I will have to live through."

Annabeth laughs. One of her workmates gawks at her, brows meeting in the middle like she has grown a second head. So what if she didn't smile or laugh that often? She tilts her seat and faces the other way instead.

"I quite recall that you enjoyed that movie, too, you know. You were humming  _ Two Voices, One Song _ in the shower for months. Don't be a hypocrite, Percy."

Percy snorts, and if she closes her eyes and visualizes them in their usual 2 A.M. talks over the phone -the playful banter and comfortable silence- she could almost pretend the six years never happened.

They're silent for a couple of seconds, and as much as Annabeth wishes it to be the same cozy, listening-to-each-other's-breathing-pattern kind of silence that they used to share, it just isn't. Instead, the silence hangs in between them, awkward and as heavy as the boulder that lumps in her throat.

Percy, probably sensing the uncomfortable void, clears his throat. "So, um,"

Annabeth snaps back to sense; the singing in her heart suddenly sounds awful and out of tune. "Yeah, I was-" she closes her eyes, pursing her lips. "I was calling to see if we could maybe grab some dinner tomorrow night?" she finishes hesitantly.

"Oh, um," he clears his throat again. "Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow's fine."

She quietly sighs in relief. "Great. I'll send you the address and time?"

"Yeah, I'll look forward to it."

He sounds genuine that she hopes it's not just him giving one chance and trying to put her down as gently as he could.

"Okay,"

"Okay."

The call ends, but Annabeth burns with anticipation that it's their story rewriting.

***

" _ I want to be like my dad. He was a marine biologist. He loved fishes and knew everything about them." Percy explained, managing to speak loud enough for the whole class. He still sounded nervous, but it was evident in the way that his eyes shone that he was proud of his father and dreamed of becoming like him and making him proud. Annabeth could relate to that desire. _

" _ Fish study is a  _ job _?" The classmate that presented before Percy asked, wide-eyed in disbelief. Annabeth wanted to scoff. She wanted to be a professional babysitter; she wasn't one to talk. _

_ Percy was a little red-faced again but nodded his head politely, "Yes. It was my dad's job." He paused but continued, "You know, I don't think professional babysitting is a real job, but it's a well-meaning dream job, so I think it's great. My mom babysits next door to our apartment sometimes, and the mother always says she's awesome. So, I think it's noble of you to want to take care of people -strangers, particularly." _

_ The kid's face turned beet red, and she immediately looked down. The idiots at the back shared another laugh, apparently very amused. _

_ Annabeth was a little impressed with him now. _

" _ Thank you, Percy. That's a wonderful dream job." Miss Flynn said to Percy. "Did your dad help you with your homework?" _

_ Percy's mouth arched down, and he looked to the floor. "No. He's dead." _

_ Miss Flynn looked surprised, and she immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, Percy. But I'm sure that wherever he is now, he's very proud of you." She sounded so genuine, and it reminded Annabeth why Miss Flynn was her favorite teacher. _

_ Percy's face lit up, and Annabeth thought he should keep it that way more often because he somehow had a contagious smile. After all, Annabeth now found herself smiling too, for unknown reasons. _

" _ Thank you," it was no more than a whisper but was honest, too. _

_ Annabeth now officially had a favorite classmate, as well. _

_ Percy went back to his seat at the back, his head bowed. _

_ Four other boring and ludicrous presentations later, it was finally down to Annabeth. She stood up, bringing the neatest, most sleek paper in her hands. She faced the class with confidence and pride, and her eyes landed on Percy. His head was downward in humility, and Annabeth remembered what his father had said to her that morning. _

_ Happiness is not always going straight. It can be found in curves and edges and broken lines, too. _

_ And perhaps in crumpled papers and ugly fish drawings, as well. _

" _ Annabeth?" Miss Flynn called out. "Do you want to share your drawing with us?" _

_ Annabeth wanted to show everyone how talented she was at drawing and how incredible her dream was of becoming an architect and get an armful of stars from Miss Flynn to show off to his parents later. That was how she planned out her day to happen. _

_ But she was allowed to sway off the path once in a while. _

" _ Give me one moment, Miss Flynn. I have a few modifications to do." _

_ With that said, she hurried back to her desk and grabbed another clean sheet of bond paper and a sharpie, and drew messy circles and lines on the surface. When she finished, she kept her actual assignment paper inside her plastic briefcase. There'd be another time to tell the world she was going to be the next most successful architect. _

_ She stood back at the front of the class, holding her new paper. She smiled at Miss Flynn, who looked confused but smiled back kindly. "I'm ready, Miss Flynn." _

" _ Okay, Annabeth. What do you want to be when you grow up?" she asked dutifully. _

_ Annabeth proudly raised her paper for everyone to see. They all squinted. Miss Flynn looked at the work and back to Annabeth, drawing her brows together. _

_ It was a drawing of two stick figures; one was a girl because of the noodle-like longish yellow hair, and one was a boy with a messy black nest sitting atop his head. _

" _ When I grow up," she started saying with her chin held high. "I want-" she cuts herself, shaking her head. "No," then beams, eyes sparkling. "I  _ will _ be Percy Jackson's best friend." _

_ She went home with three red stars stamped on her arm and gained her best friend that day. Deviating from the path proved to be fruitful, indeed. _

/./ _ curt  _ /./

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you're in the Teen Wolf fandom, as well (particularly with steo and sterek ships) we can be friends on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/voidstilesplease) now where I post things for my other fandoms :)


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